Frenchy, I'm faking, Been longing to stir you up, Changing looks slightly like back in the '90s, Far and away whistle delayed delights. The prospect of lightning was ever so frightening, I said your kisses are nice, But I'm looking for hills to roll, Down with abandon and no understanding. I borrowed your suitcase and filled it with pearls and gold, You let me down lightly, I killed you politely